


we're all alright

by clarakent (salazarastark)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Age Difference, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alpha Dick Grayson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Damian Wayne Has Issues, Jason Todd Has Issues, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Damian Wayne, Omega Jason Todd, Omega Tim Drake, Past Tim Drake/Jason Todd, Top Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-09-18 22:35:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20320621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarastark/pseuds/clarakent
Summary: Tim is confident about one thing in his life, and that's being an omega. The issue is that Jason and Damian don't feel the same way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is also all Mandy's fault, and God bless her for it. I have to thank azyengima for putting up with all the pestering I put her through to develop this fic and njw for betaing this fic. It's only because of them this fic is as good as it is, as well as all the people who put up with my blabbering on the Capes & Coffee discord.
> 
> Title is from _That '70's Show_ theme song, which was on the background throughout the entire time I got down and dirty in writing this fic.

Tim is eleven years old and he wakes up feeling hot and sticky, his body burning as he whimpers while his stomach cramps. The world is falling all around him, because this _ can’t _ be happening. He can’t be an omega. If he’s an omega, his parents won’t want him because they _ need _ him to be an alpha. If he's not an alpha, he can't be the heir they require.

If his parents hadn't been home for _ once_, he probably could have hidden it. As it stands, he's stuck with his mother barging into his room when he didn't come down for dinner, wrinkling her nose as disappointment fills her eyes.

"Marta!" she calls. "Get in here."

She walks over to Tim and pushes a lock of hair out of his eyes, and tsks her tongue. "You could have been great, sweetheart." The disappointment grows in her eyes, and she says softly, but bluntly, "But unfortunately, you'll never amount to anything." She turns on her heel and walks out, grasping the arm of Marta as she bustles in. "Make sure everything works right. He's useless as an heir now, but we'll need to make sure he'll have a good marriage one day and he can't do that barren."

Tim spends his first heat alone, miserable and crying, while his parents get ready for another dig and discuss if they need to have another child to make up for him, or if they should just wait until he's old enough to marry off and then attempt to make something out of one of his children.

They're gone before his heat is over, and part of Tim wonders if they'll ever be back.

***

Tim is thirteen years old and he's been Robin for two months when a heat hits him, fast and furious. He's in the Cave with Bruce, helping him figure out a case when Tim feels a cold hand grip his heart as slick begins to pour out of his body. He hadn't. . . . He hadn't noticed. He should have been paying closer attention, he should have been taking care of his body, but it just . . . It just slipped his mind. He whimpers as he leans against the console, as Bruce jerks his head up and away from the computer and towards Tim. He closes his eyes. Call him a coward, but he doesn't want to see how Bruce's lip curls when he tells him that he doesn't want anyone so weak to be his Robin.

"Tim," he hears Bruce whisper as a calloused thumb wipes away tears. "Tim, it's okay."

"I'm sorry," he whimpers out. "I know I should have told you."

"It's okay," Bruce tells him. "We'll figure this out."

Tim sobs. He doesn't want to stop being Robin.

"You won't have to, Tim." Fuck, did he say that out loud? "Let's just get you through this heat."

"You shouldn't want me," he says. "I'm a disappointment. I'm _ weak_."

The smell of a furious alpha rolls over him and he tries to curl into himself, but Bruce presses him close to his chest and his smell turns to something protective and fatherly, something he's never smelled before.

"You're not _ weak_. You're an incredibly strong young man, stronger than so many alphas I've met. Your dynamic does _ not _ determine your character, and I would not change a thing about you, not even now."

He lets out a sob as he buries his face in Bruce's chest. "H-hurts," he moans. His heats always hurt. He always feels so lonely and miserable and empty, and his parents always making sure they're out of the country so they don't have to face their disappointment. And not empty in that he needs something inside him, but empty in that he feels that he's unloved, that there's something so fundamentally wrong with him that no one will ever want. "Hey, hey," he hears Bruce whisper, and shit, did he say that out loud as well? "I'm here. I got you. You won't be alone."

He's being lifted up and taken out of the Cave, his arms instantly locking around Bruce's neck. "Let's get you into a shower and some clean clothes. I'm going to call Clark and ask him what you need."

His parents’ talks filter through his head, just as painful in recollection as they were when first he heard them.

("Should we find an alpha, one that we can trust?"

"And risk him getting pregnant?"

"Would that be the worst thing, darling? The surrogacy was expensive, and it obviously failed. And this way we can still get some use from him."

"Hmm. I suppose Tim carrying an heir _ would _ be beneficial for all of us. We should probably wait a few years until he's older."

"Oh, of course. We can even search for sperm donors to make sure we have total control over the genetics of the child."

"Should we? Especially since we should make sure he has more than one in case of another omega. We don't want people think he's a slut."

"He's an omega, darling." Laughter. "They'll already know.")

He shakes his head. "Please, no, I don't need. . . I don't _ want _ it."

Bruce stills halfway up the steps. "What 'it'?" he growls.

"I don't want to make an heir," he sobs. "_ Please_. That isn't. . . I just don't want to have a baby."

"Tim," and Bruce's voice is too still, too calm. Tim can tell he's about to explode. "What usually gets you through your heats?"

Tim frowns. "I just . . . I just sleep and watch TV when I don't feel the pain."

"The pain? You feel _ pain_?"

"Everything hurts, and I feel like I'm going to die. And I just don't want to be alone." _ And I don't want to be a disappointment. _

"Tim, if you feel like this because of heats, we need to take you to Dr. Thompkins."

"No, you don't—"

"Yes, I do. Heats aren't supposed to be painful. What exactly hurts? Can you narrow it down?"

Tim lets out another sob. "My chest and my head. I cry a lot." He's embarrassed at that last part, but Bruce is seeing him at his lowest and he gave him an order. Tim needs to obey.

Bruce lets out a slow, shuddering breath. "Fuck." Tim has never heard Bruce curse until now. "This isn't . . . This isn't physical pain."

"What is it?" Tim asks.

"_Abuse_," Bruce growls again. "And by need, Tim, I'm not talking about getting someone to _ rape _ you. I'm talking about getting you your favorite foods, books, and movies while you go through a normal biological function that you should not feel any shame about. And the only time you will be alone is when you actually want to be alone. Otherwise, you will have me, Dick, Alfred, or Barbara with you. Hell, I'll get Clark here if I need to."

Tim shakes his head. "No, I can't let you do—"

"Believe me, Tim," Bruce says as he starts to move back up the stairs. "This is a mission that will have plenty of volunteers."

*

Bruce wasn't wrong. He doesn't enter the bathroom while Tim takes a shower.By the time he leaves the bathroom on shaky legs and in what must be an overly large shirt of Bruce's that literally hangs off his shoulder, flannel pajamas, and fuzzy socks, he feels nice and warm. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees Bruce setting up this guestroom that Tim has been staying in ever since he became Robin, one that is surprisingly close to Bruce and Dick's room (and only a few doors down from Jason's old one). Alfred gave it to him, and he's not sure why.

He's connecting a PlayStation to a TV that wasn't there just an hour ago, a stack of books that Tim doesn't recognize right next to a pile of games, movies, and TV shows, and even a couple of board games.

"Where'd this all come from?" he asks dumbly.

"Jason's room," Bruce says, and Tim whips his head in Bruce's direction.

"_What_? No, you can't do that."

"I can," Bruce says calmly. "Jason would hate that these things are gathering up dust in his room while there's someone who needs him. These are his favorite games, books, and movies. If you don't like them, I invite you to go into his room and find something that does appeal to you. But I think your tastes are similar enough for this to be a good starting point."

Tim hates that he's going to cry again. "He was your son. I shouldn't have this stuff, I shouldn't replace him."

Bruce drops the cords and walks over to Tim, and places a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, he was my son, and I loved him more than words can possibly say. And you could never replace him." Tim looks down and nods. He knows this, but he doesn't know why Bruce is saying it. "Because you are _ Tim _ and someone that I'm very glad to know as his own, unique person. Someone that I think of like a son and I wouldn't change a single thing about, not to make him like anyone else in the world." Tim can't stop the sob that bursts through his lips. "You aren't a replacement, Tim, and I'm sorry if I made you feel like one. I'm glad you're Robin. I'm glad you're your _ own _ Robin."

Somehow Tim has his arms wrapped around him and tears are leaking into Bruce's soft sweater. For the first time that he can remember, he feels okay that he’s an omega.

***

Tim is fifteen when he realizes that he’s attractive.

(There was Bernard, last year, but that . . . that was different.)

It’s an accident for the most part. He’s hanging out with Young Justice in their headquarters. Kon is sprawled on the couch, reading a trashy gossip magazine, his feet on Cassie's lap. Bart is sitting at her feet, and Tim is curled up in an armchair. The others are somewhere else, he doesn't know where, but despite the fact that they have no idea who he is, he loves his friends and he knows they love him. They trust him, and he's enjoying the time to be close to them.

They're all alphas, he can smell it on each of them as clear as day. They're the alphas on the team, and Tim knows he's the only omega (though they don't know that). They think he's a beta, which is just how he likes it.

Tim is reading a file intently, his mind firing as he focuses on the thrill of research, when it's interrupted by Kon.

"Do you know who's hot?" he says abruptly, still reading the magazine. "Tim Drake."

Tim is very glad that Bruce trained him not to react when confronted with something he never expected. He goes as still as possible, mind immediately fully focused on Kon and his words.

"Oh, yeah," Cassie says casually, like Tim isn't going through a major mental shake-up. "He's hot as fuck."

"Who?" Bart asks, like the person they're talking about isn’t sitting only a few feet away from them. Kon flips the magazine around, and Tim sees a perfectly ordinary picture of him next to Bruce right outside of Wayne Enterprises. He can't read the text of the post, but he assumes it's something that references the fact that Tim was living with him for a period and how sweet it was that they kept in contact.

If only they knew.

"_Damn_," Bart stretches out. "He _ is _ hot. Omega, right? With those looks, he has to be."

Tim has no idea what that means.

"I know, right?" Kon adds in. "He's like the dictionary definition of a beautiful omega."

"Michelangelo _ wishes _ he could have painted something this beautiful," Cassie says. "I mean, this isn't even a very good picture of him! You can't see how blue his eyes are here. Let me grab my phone, I have better ones on there."

"I don't see the appeal," slips out of Tim's mouth before he can stop himself. He can't though. He's just Tim, regular old Tim, not someone who people discuss how attractive he is with their friends and whose pictures they save on their phone. He's not a crush-worthy beauty, he's just a regular omega with gangly limbs and hair that never feels like it's staying in place.

Three sets of eyes turn to stare at him in shock.

"What the hell are you talking about, Rob?" Kon asks, aghast. "Do you not see the cheekbones?"

"The eyes?" Cassie pitches in.

"The _ ass_? Bart finishes up, studying the picture in the magazine intently.

"He's the prettiest omega I've ever seen," Kon says, gesturing with his hands. "I want to run my hands through his hair. It looks so soft."

It is one of the biggest struggles of Tim's life, but he manages not to touch his hair. Cassie types in something in her phone, and then tosses it to Tim. "It's not just us. Look how many people think he's hot too! I mean, some of this is actually really creepy because he's fifteen and I doubt everyone online commenting on his looks is a teenager as well, but the point remains! Tim Drake is _ hot_."

"Huh," Tim says, starting to scroll through Twitter and looking at post after post saying how much people hate him because of how pretty he is, pictures of him smiling right next to sob emojis. Cassie is right in that a lot of it is very creepy, but Tim can't help it.

He smiles.

***

Tim is seventeen when he and Dick kiss for the first time.

It's after he's gotten Bruce back, and Dick wants to take him out as an apology for not believing him. Tim said he would go on only one condition, and that's if Dick never brought up anything from the past year that he feels the need to apologize for. He doesn't want to spend an evening trying to forgive him, he wants to spend an evening actually forgiving him.

Dick's idea of taking him out as an apology is taking him to see _ Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2 _and then pizza afterwards, and it's a good idea. By the time they get their pizza, they're fully in the middle of dissecting the plot of the movie and how it stands in the MCU, laughing and joking and Tim feels so happy right now he could burst. He feels his anger over the past year slowly slide away, as he watches Dick's sky-blue eyes crinkle with every new laugh. He's only twenty-five, and he's already getting some small crow's feet and Tim loves it. This is a hard life. Scars cover so much of their bodies. Fights have marked their bodies, anger and grief and pain have taken their toll. But when he sees those crow's feet, he's glad to see that it isn't only the negative emotions that have left their mark on Dick. He's found enough joy in his life to permanently change his face.

He's brought enough joy into Tim's life to permanently change it.

Especially when Dick laughs so hard at a joke that Tim's made that soda almost comes out of his nose, and Tim starts to crack up so hard that he thinks he's stopped breathing.

They stumble out of the pizza parlor with full stomachs amidst peals of laughter streaming out of their mouths, Dick's arm looped around Tim's shoulder and pulling him close. The other man's natural smell of alpha and honey and blueberries invade his senses and he wants to bury his face in Dick's chest and just _ breathe_.

"Okay, Timmy," Dick says. "I concede. Team Cap for life."

Tim nods. "Damn right. I am so glad that you've finally seen sense." He knows Dick doesn't really care, but is just playing along for him. It's a nice feeling though. He can't remember the last time someone pretended to care about something just to make him happy.

Tim can't remember the last time he didn't pretend.

They stumble in an uneven rhythm as they walk through the warm Gotham night, but Dick refuses to let him go and Tim doesn't think he could bear it if he did. "So what do you want to do now?" Dick asks, glancing at his watch. "It's only nine. The night is young."

"What about patrol?"

Dick winks. "Don't worry about it. I talked to Bruce and he agreed with me that you needed a break for tonight. Patrol is all worked out."

"Babs figured it out?"

"I honestly don't think any of us would be alive without her."

Tim laughs at that, ducking his head into Dick's chest and the taller man wraps both of his arms around him. They're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, but neither of them can bring themselves to care as Dick holds him close to him. Tears suddenly prick Tim's eyes, ones of happiness and sadness. He feels like he'll never be alone in this moment, but at the same time the constant feeling of bone-deep loneliness that dodge his every waking step is creeping up on him.

"Dick, I forgive you," he whispers, tears choking his throat. "I don't want to talk about it right now, and I'm still a little angry, and I don't think I can ever forget it. But I forgive you. I want you to know that."

Dick grips him closer and presses a small kiss in his hair. "Thank you," he whispers, mouth muffled by Tim's hair. He thinks someone of it is actually in Dick's mouth, which is gross, but also not at the same time. It's hard to fully explain. "I am so, so sorry for it all. That's all I'm going to say, but I have to say it right now. I need you to know this."

Tim nods, blinking back as many tears as he can, even though he can feel a few slipping down his cheeks.

He pulls back and looks up at the other man, half a foot taller than him and his own eyes brighter than normal. Tim attempts a weak smile, and Dick returns it with something genuine and warm.

He doesn't know who moves first. He doesn't really know how it happens other than it feels right and good and like the most natural thing in the world.

It doesn't really matter how he ended up kissing him, only that he is. Dick's hands are on his back, one on the small of it and one splayed between his shoulder blades, making sure that Tim is close as possible. His hands are in Dick's shirt, pulling him in tight. Their noses bump together and Tim smiles into the kiss, his heart soaring as he kisses Dick like he's been wanting to for years.

The sidewalk is empty, thank God, and has been for this entire time, but a door slams somewhere down the block and it jars something in both of them that makes them jump apart, cheeks flushed from the kiss and embarrassment and something more, something close to fear.

Tim looks at him, eyes wide and throat tight, because he can read the forlorn look in Dick's eyes and he knows as soon as the other man's voice scratches out, "Tim. . . ."

"We can't," Tim forces out of his own throat. "I know. We just can't."

Dick nods his head. "You'll always have me, Tim. But it's not appropriate like this."

Tim wants to scream that he doesn't care.

He doesn't say a damn thing.

***

Tim is nineteen the first time he sleeps with Dick. Not the first time he’s ever slept with someone. He fucked Bernard and dated Kon, and Jason was a huge fucking ordeal, an ordeal that led to Dick screwing Tim into the couch.

It starts like this.

Tim is about to start his heat, eating mint chocolate chip ice cream on the couch while his body feels the pin-pricking of heat starting. He shifts on the couch as he shoves a big spoonful in his mouth, blinking back tears as he does his best to ignore the ripped out shards of his heart that Jason had pulled from him.

_ "God, stop being such an _ omega_._

A shuddering breath escapes him as he tries to clear his mind of Jason's words. He feels his face contort with the tears, but forces it back to normal though he feels the twitches. What does Jason even know?

He shoves another spoonful in his mouth. He's not going to cry over some stupid boy that broke his heart.

There is a small question in his mind if Jason was wrong. Maybe Tim should have just sucked it up, and not said anything about this. Maybe he shouldn't have asked Jason to spend his heat with him. Maybe he shouldn't have expected that Jason would think it would be fun, especially because he had never really seemed comfortable when anything that had to do with Tim being an omega.

But what was wrong with a simple no? Not a scoff and a sneer, yelling that he didn't want to get involved in heats and all that other omega shit.

(But Tim probably deserves this after what he did to Kon.)

God, Tim wishes he were dead, that the ground would swallow him whole. He slams the ice cream carton down on the coffee table and turns into the side of the couch, grips the fabric as sobs try to choke their way out of him. He bites his lip so they won't bubble out, but there's a high whine that comes out of him without his permission.

Hot tears are pricking his eyes and he squeezes them tightly so that they can't escape. He slaps a hand over his mouth while he still clutches the couch like it was a raft with the other.

He doesn't remember a lot of what he yelled back. He doesn't remember everything they said together. All he remembers is everything shattering inside him as glass, cutting his soul as they argued until Jason screamed that he was leaving and slammed the door shut behind him.

He takes a breath. Then he takes another one. And he takes more and more until his heartbeat is regular and safe and pushes himself off the couch.

Fuck Jason.

Tim's a big boy. He can spend his heat alone. And he's hot. He's heard that from so many people and the fucking internet so many times, that he knows can find someone to spend it with in just a snap of his fingers. Hell, that's what he's going to do.

Who to invite though? Who does he trust that much? He destroyed Kon's heart, he hasn't talked to Bernard in years, and other short flings aren't really people that he wants back in his life. He has a mind for the man he wants to fuck, someone tall and broad, with silky black hair and sky-blue eyes and fuck, he wants _ Dick_.

Well, he's going to get it.

_ Tim_: My heat's starting. Want to come over?

He remembers what Dick said on the sidewalk. He doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

_ Dick_: yeah, ill be over soon

_ Tim_: To be clear, I want you to fuck me until I can't think anymore and I don't want you to ask me what's wrong.

The three dots judge him as Tim watches them for what feels like hours, but eventually he gets an inadequate response.

_ Dick_: okay, be there in twenty

_ Dick:_ dont ask me whats wrong either

Tim can do that. Tim prefers that.

Tim might not be thinking entirely straight, but Dick had whispered how attractive he found him when they were only moderately drunk, so Tim is going to be stupid and lash out as is his God given right as someone who is heartbroken.

And it seems like Dick's in the same boat as well.

He stares at the ceiling as his heat creeps up until he hears the key that he gave Dick twist in the door and Dick steps inside, tall and gorgeous and smelling so fucking good, like such a strong alpha.

Tim's heat is really starting to hit him.

He doesn't even think before he pulls off his shirt, suddenly feeling far too clothed. Dick just raises an eyebrow as he shuts the door.

"You sure about this?" His voice is rough, and Tim knows that he isn't unaffected by the smell of his pheromones.

"I'm telling you as a fully consenting adult that I want to do this." Tim debates if he should take his pants off, or if he should let Dick do that.

"You're in heat."

"Pre-heat. I'm horny, not incapacitated. I know my own body, Dick."

Dick stares at him for a solid moment before making his move. He strides over to the couch and wraps his hand in Tim's hair, pulling it so his neck is tilted at an odd angle as Dick presses his mouth to Tim's roughly. "How rough do you want this?" he asks as he pulls back, the hand not threaded in Tim’s hair slowly petting his cheekbone and then thumbing his lips.

Tim’s eyelids flutter halfway close as he whimpers at the contact. “Just make sure the only thing I’m feeling is you.”

Dick growls as he brings his lips down again, their teeth knocking together. Somehow, he climbs over the couch without Tim even noticing and pins his wrists down with his large hands without breaking the kiss. Dick grinds against him, and he moans when he feels the press of the alpha’s erection against his thighs. He needs that cock in him now.

“Please,” he whimpers as they break apart for just one moment to get some air. “_Please _ fuck me.”

“You got it, Tim.” Dick’s hands are no longer on his wrists, and Tim hates it, but the larger man is focused on getting Tim’s pants and underwear off and his own clothes right after. Tim stares wide-eyed, wrists positioned exactly as they were as he marvels at Dick’s smooth, tan skin, scarred and perfect.

Dick leans back down to kiss him again, hands cupping his face, and suddenly he can move again. He wraps his legs around the alpha, the slick starting to slide down his thighs in full-force, so turned on that he feels like he’s going to explode. His arms encircle the taller man’s neck, and he nips at his lips as Dick shifts them enough so he can enter him.

One hand is now under his chin, on his neck, allowing Dick to kiss down it while Tim whimpers and moans. He wants to bite his lips to be quiet, hating the show of emotions, but he’s been told many times by the men he’s slept with that he makes the prettiest noises when he’s being fucked.

Judging from Dick’s laughing growl, he agrees.

The other hand moves to his hip, shifting him just enough that he can enter Tim in one long, slow thrust, Tim’s eyes rolling back as he gasps as the feeling of _ fullness _ comes over him.

This is his favorite part of sex, the feeling of being filled, before the thrusting starts and he can just enjoy how good it is to be wrapped up in another person’s arms, underneath them and joined with them. He holds on tightly to Dick as he bottoms out, whimpers high and needy as he clenches down hard and the alpha moans on top of him.

“Fuck, Tim. You’re so _ tight_. You’re so fucking perfect,” Dick whispers into his skin, and Tim makes a happy noise. Fuck, he loves praise during sex, he loves being told how good he is. “I could stay inside you for _ hours_.”

Tim would let him. He would let him be inside all damn day. He would let him take Tim apart slowly and carefully. Making him _ his_.

He nods desperately. “Whatever you want,” he sighs. “Just _ fuck _ me.”

Dick laughs, but he does exactly what Tim asks. He pulls out almost completely, and then thrusts back in so hard that the smaller man is jolted up the couch. He gasps and clenches down hard, and Dick groans as he thrusts again, making sure that he’s sliding against his prostrate in unpredictable rhythms so he doesn’t know when to expect it.

It feels so good and he needs Dick desperately, needs to be fucked so hard that he forgets everything wrong in his life right now.

He claws at Dick’s broad shoulders, at how good his strong thighs feel as they slap against Tim’s as the alpha thrusts into him again and again until he comes inside him, filling him and knotting him, Tim coming only a second behind him, vision white as he screams.

He comes down with a gasping breath, Dick's knot stretching him wide, breathing harder than Tim has ever seen him before.

“Fuck, princess,” and Tim has never heard Dick call him that, but he always wants to hear it coming out of his mouth now. “That was the best sex I ever had.”

A heavy pride fills Tim, a smirk dancing on his lips. He clenches down again, sighing as his oversensitive nerves jump and dance and Dick groans. “You always got to go above and behind, don’t you?”

Tim giggles and pats Dick’s chest. “You know it.” He yawns, the exertion suddenly hitting him like a train. “When you go down, help me to my room so we can sleep.”

“You can’t walk?” Dick teases. Tim shrugs. “Don’t know, don’t care. Just want you to carry me.”

Dick laughs. “You got it, princess.”

As soon as he deflates, Dick lifts him in a bridal carry, strong arms encircling him as he wraps his arms around the taller man’s neck as he walks him to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to njw for betaing this chapter!!!

They fuck two more times that night, and each of those times, Dick knots him. He doesn’t hold back in bed though, and Tim is a fucked out mess when Dick’s knot finally deflates for the third time. He doesn’t leave Tim’s body, however. He just wraps an arm around Tim’s chest, pulls him close to his own, and murmurs a “Good night” in Tim’s ear before he falls asleep.

Tim follows a few moments later.

He wakes up sore and riding a semi sated heat, Dick still inside him. He feels well-rested for once in his life. The alpha’s still asleep, nuzzling his nose into Tim’s neck. A million and one thoughts run through Tim’s mind, but he pushes them all aside because for once he feels _ happy _, or at least some version of it.

He’s in the arms of the man that he’s had a crush on for years. He just had some incredibly fantastic sex and he doubts that he’s going to be able to walk today, which is just how he likes to spend his heats.

He definitely isn’t thinking about Jason. Nope, not at all.

He _ refuses _ to think about Jason.

He turns his head to look at Dick, still sleeping and gorgeous. He smiles at how peaceful Dick looks. He can’t remember the last time the older man looked like this, and Tim doesn’t want to disturb him. He really just wants to curl up a little bit more in the alpha's arms. Tim turns his head just so he can bury his face in Dick's neck, and take a deep breath of the honey and blueberries that's _ Dick_.

Dick nuzzles his neck so Tim can take a deeper breath, get more of that special scent. It’s a peaceful morning, a rare one, and Tim intends to make the most of it.

And then the fucking phone rings, waking Dick up and pulling a whine out of Tim.

“No,” he whimpers out while Dick groans and reaches for his phone. He crosses his fingers that it won’t be a city-wide emergency that requires all Bats on board. He’s sure as hell useless right now. He can’t go out crime fighting in the middle of his heat, something that’s gotten him plenty of derision from Jason and Damian. They make it very clear what they think about Tim and the fact that he chooses to engage with his body’s natural process instead of ignoring it.

But as Dick answers the phone and listens, Tim can tell that there’s no such luck. And while he might not be able to don the Red Robin suit, he sure as hell can be on coms to manage this situation.

Dick’s responding answers are short, but when he finishes, the guilty look that flashes across his face hits Tim hard. He still smiles. “It’s okay,” he gets out. “This comes first. Always has.”

He forces himself to roll out of bed and stand up, scrounge for clothes and grab his laptop so he can figure out what the hell happened and how exactly he can help. Dick groans as he pads out into the living room for his bag with the Nightwing suit.

Ultimately, it takes seven and a half hours for them to put out the literal fires around Gotham, and Dick is needed after that with the Titans. Then it’s his actual civilian job of being a police officer, and Tim’s hopes and dreams of a fantastic heat in Dick’s arms and on his knot have disappeared.

And through it all, he can’t help but think that he forgot about something.

*

Five weeks and seven pregnancy tests later, he realized what it was.

They didn't use a fucking condom, and Tim never thought about getting the morning after pill.

He cannot believe for the life of him that Dick didn't use a fucking condom.

He can't believe that he didn't get his hand on the pill as soon as he realized.

And he can't believe that he's staring at the website for Planned Parenthood, not wanting to make the call that would get rid of the most simple problem in his life. He can't have a kid right now. It's pure idiocy. He's nineteen, he literally just had sex with Dick that one night. They've been carefully avoiding each other for the past five weeks because as soon as Dick and Tim were away from each other, they realized just how monumentally stupid this was. They can't be together. It doesn't make sense.

Dick is . . . _ Dick_. Amazing and incredible, the shining standard for alphas in Tim's life and the man that he's had a crush on in some capacity for years, ever since he became Robin. It's no wonder that he realized how much better he can do as soon as he left. And Tim knows that Dick isn't going to be happy when he realizes that Tim is pregnant with his baby, so Tim should just suck it up and get it over with.

But he doesn't want to.

He can't force this fact into some objective part of his mind. He finds it in the forefront of his mind, crowding it with thoughts of a _ child_.

He sighs with frustration and then slams the laptop shut, combing his fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands as tears come to his eyes from the pain and the emotions. If this were anyone else's kid, he would be calling Dick to talk this through. And since it's _ Dick's _ kid, he can't think of anyone to talk it through. Everyone will either make him talk to Dick or mock him for being such an idiot.

He flops down on the couch, letting his hair fall in front of his eyes. He places his hand on his stomach.

There is no baby in his womb. In his womb is a collection of cells that have the potential of one day being an actual person, and that's not today. He looked it up—it's is literally the size of a fucking orange seed, and how in the world can Tim think of it as an actual child?

He wonders if their genetics would make their eyes dark blue like his, or light like Dick's. If their hair is thin and straight, or thick and wavy. If their skin is pale or tan. Are they going to be short like him, or tall like Dick? Slender or broad-shouldered? He wonders if he carried to term, what would be the traits from John and Mary? Jack and Janet? A woman from three hundred years ago, a man from a thousand?

It's just a collection of cells, and Tim doesn't want to think about the possibility in all of those cells.

He turns his head into the couch cushion and screams, fingers clutching into the fabric because he knows his choice even though he knows it's stupid as all fuck.

He opens the laptop back up, and then looks at the Planned Parenthood website. He can set up an appointment to discuss all his options, and even get checked over. When he calls, he's informed that he can meet with them tomorrow.

He imagines Dick's face when he tells him the news. Disgust when he realizes that Tim's going to be the mother of his child. Relief if Tim tells him that he's getting an abortion.

Tim bites his lip. He wants to make Dick happy, but he thinks he'll regret this for the rest of his life if he doesn't at least try to see what life would be like with a kid.

He calls the number. He makes the appointment with a Dr. Melinda Baker. He goes to bed, closes his eyes, and tries to sleep.

*

He somehow actually manages a somewhat restful night. He's woken up by dreams of bouncing babies and nightmares of Dick screaming at him for being so stupid, always morphing into his parents’ faces.

Sometimes he wants to ask his parents why they were so terrible. Bruce didn't knock it out of the park every single time, but Tim always had the comfort of knowing that no matter what, at the end of the day Bruce loved him. He thinks Jack and Janet might have. Maybe. He likes to dream. But in the end, it doesn't matter. They rejected the fact that he was an omega, and then only "allowed" him to be one on their own terms. They talked about the things they could maybe do with him as an adult, missing the fact that just because he was a kid, it didn't mean that he didn't have interests and dreams and questions. There's good moments in his childhood, sprinkled here and there, things that he held onto like a man dying of thirst in the desert, moments of a life that could be, but something always ruined it. A fight, an annoyance, the call of another dig. The fact that they would only call _ him _ from those digs maybe once a week, if even that, and never sent him gifts. The constant stream of housekeepers and nannies in his house. No comfort, no consistency, no bone-deep knowledge that even when they weren't there, they were _ there_.

And then sometimes he likes to tell himself that his parents never loved him. Because if they loved him, then why couldn't they be there for him? Why did he have to beg for scraps when they actually could have fed him?

Maybe he should get an abortion to protect himself from making those big mistakes, because there's a big part of him that's afraid of looking into his child's eyes and feeling nothing for them—like his parents could have felt for him. Or that hate. Or the love that they somehow found impossible to show.

He manages to force himself back to sleep while dealing with these thoughts, but he still wakes in the morning terrified of his inherent awfulness as a parent.

His appointment's at one. It's ten. He doesn't _ have _ to spend two hours in bed before he gets dressed in sweats, does the bare minimum of getting ready, and then stumble out the door, stomach churning with fear over what could happen today, but he does anyway.

He doesn't trust himself to drive, so he takes the bus, his heart pounding the entire ride there. He makes sure the baseball cap is low on his face, hiding his features and ensuring that no one should be able to figure out who he is.

He has the fake ID of Nathaniel Fowl in one hand, clutching it tightly, and a wad of hundreds in the other to pay for this appointment. With the useful circumstance of people not thinking that Tim Wayne would go to a simple clinic for his first prenatal check-up, it all works out. Or at least it should.

He might be making a big mistake.

He runs off the bus and into the clinic, heart pounding as he presents the ID. All the receptionist does is wave him through, and Tim blinks, tensing at how easy it was. He feels like he's waiting for the other shoe to fall right on top of him and stomp him out. He sits down on the chair in the room, not wanting to look at the exam table.

His shoulders are tense, and once again, his hand ends up on his stomach.

He wonders if they're a boy or a girl.

Alpha, beta, or omega.

He wonders if they would have Dick's smile.

(Please let them have Dick's smile, it's literally the best one in the world.)

He's staring at the wall when the doctor comes in, a pretty alpha woman with long dark hair stuck in a messy bun. "Mr. Fowl?" she questions, smiling at him. He nods. "I'm Dr. Melinda Baker. How are you doing today?"

Tim lets a sickly smile cross his face. "I'm fine," he whispers. "Nauseous."

She nods. "That's normal for five weeks. Anything else?"

Tim looks away from her and at his hands. "Sore. Exhausted. Emotional."

She makes a note of that. "All very normal as well."

He knows, he read the symptoms online. In truth, he can't tell the difference between what's new pregnancy hormones and what's just everything in his life hitting the fucking wall. He hasn't felt steady for months now.

At least the nausea is new.

"You called saying that you wanted to discuss options?" she asks. Her eyes are big and gray. She's young, probably not even ten years older than Tim, and he wonders why she decided to work at a free clinic. He doesn't ask, he doesn't know why she would answer. "I want to make it clear that no matter what, abortion, adoption, or raising this child, this clinic will help you with everything you need."

Tim nods, tears forming in his eyes. Perhaps that's the pregnancy.

"Is there a particular way you're leaning?" Her voice is soft and light. "Some people just want support for a decision they've already made. Some people truly don't know what they want." She tilts her head. "No matter what, I can listen, and then I'll check you over. I can ask you questions, or I can just let you talk it out. Whatever you need."

Tim shifts in his seat. "I want you to ask me questions. Push back. I work better than way." He takes a deep breath. "I think I want to keep it," he forces out. "But I don't know if the father wants it. He. . . . It was just one time, and I've known him for years. We share a lot of mutual friends. I don't want to trap him into anything, and people would figure out he's the dad. And I don't want to make him feel like I'm trapping him into anything. He's a good guy."

Tim's whole body is jittery as he sits in the chair. He doesn't want Dick to be disappointed in him. That's the real issue. And getting pregnant is very big screw up, even if Tim's mind is still playing Sims, trying to build his potential child.

Dr. Baker takes a deep breath. "So it's the potential reaction of the father that scares you, especially because there's no easy way to avoid him if he doesn't want to be a father, and make him feel that he doesn't have to be a part of his child's life."

Tim nods. He likes her. She makes his worries seems logical. "I will ask you this though, Mr. Fowl, what if he wants to be a father? And you say that he's a good guy? I'm sure he'd be willing to sit down and have a true and honest discussion about you about what it would mean for his life if he became a father. It sounds to me like you want him to be in this child's life, you're just scared—which is natural and very understandable. It's not cowardly to be scared, but I do believe that if you want to make the best decision here, you need to talk to him."

Perhaps she's too logical. Tim bites his lip. "Even leaving aside the issue of the father . . . I'm worried that it's stupid for me to have a kid. There are so many good reasons to get an abortion."

Dr. Baker nods. "There are. But the reasons for a person to get an abortion are not one size fits all. People have different reasons to make their own reproductive choices, and the reason that one person might want an abortion can be the exact reason why someone else decides to keep their child. It's not for anyone else to determine why you should or shouldn’t have a child."

Tim blinks. He really does like her. She makes all his worries, all his insecurities feel . . . not as much.

She purses her lips. "I don't want to put words in your mouth, so please tell me if I'm wrong, but it feels like you came here asking me to help convince to get an abortion, not because you really want one or think that you should get one. Having an unplanned child is almost always hard, even if you're in a loving and stable relationship with plans of having a child eventually. But if you want to have this baby, Mr. Fowl, I think you should do it. Is the father the only thing that makes you worry? Are there financial, medical, or religious reasons that you haven't told me? Is there anything which makes you feel like you aren't in any way prepared to take care of this baby, no matter what the status is with the father?" She tilts her head. "Mental health? Most people realize how much that can affect a new mother."

Tim knows that perhaps he has depression. He doesn't like to think about it, but he has read a list of the symptoms and he hit many of them. He knows that the things that he's gone through would be enough for an ordinary citizen to get PTSD. His parents screwed him up in so many ways that he can't even recall everything. He knows all of this in the back of his head, but he doesn't want to think about it, especially not now. But Dr. Baker brings up a good point. _ Can _ he have a baby? And this would mean giving up Red Robin for at least a year, to cover the pregnancy and the postpartum recovery. And what about if he can't leave his baby to pick up his career? If he realizes that his child needs him more than Gotham? Could he really stop helping Gotham for just one person?

He thinks that he can.

Tim takes a deep breath. And then another. And then another and another, until he no longer feels like he's about to cry. He takes his phone out of his pocket, and texts Dick quickly. _ Want to hang out later? At my house? Bored. _

He puts it back in his pocket. Dick's in the middle of a shift, so God only knows when he's going to be able to respond. He just looks up at Dr. Baker and juts out his chin. "Can you examine me as if I were going to keep the child?"

She smiles. "The examination would be relatively the same, just checking up on your health and making sure there's not anything pressing to worry about with the fetus. But I will inform you about everything you need to know about carrying a child for the next nine months."

Tim nods nervously, standing up on shaking legs to make his way to the exam table, laying down on it. He takes a deep breath as he touches his stomach. It's still flat, no bump at all. He moves his hands gently on it, wondering about what it's going to look like two, three, four months from now. He's worked hard for this body. He's always had an omega's body, and it's been remarked upon many times by heroes and villains alike. Every muscle was fought for, and a spark of fear comes through him at the thought that it'll all be gone.

There’s a very good chance it'll never come back.

But it's not enough to stop him.

"Alright, Mr. Fowl," the doctor murmurs. "Are you ready?"

Tim nods, as she prepares.

"Do you have anyone special in your life?" she asks. It's a loaded question, but Tim's nodding before he can even think. "My family. They mean the world to me."

She smiles. "I'm the same way. My husband especially. He's been my rock for years, and I've been his."

Tim smiles back at her. He likes her.

“Lay back,” she says.

“You’re married?” Tim asks, feeling strange suddenly about this woman knowing so much about him and him not knowing anything about her. He didn’t even think of doing background research on her, that’s how scattered his mind has been. He should know her SSN by now!

She nods. “For seven years.”

“Kids?”

She nods. “Five year old girl and two year old boy.” She smiles softly. “I love them so much.”

Tim nods in response. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“You can tell I’m an alpha,” she says casually, “and my husband’s an omega, but I was actually the one to carry both our children.” Tim jerks at the revelation, because he knows that sometimes people do it that way, but it’s always looked down upon, seen as unnatural for a strong alpha woman to carry when there’s an omega right there. “It was a hard decision to make because of how we knew we’d be seen, but it was the right choice for us as a family. He didn’t want to be pregnant, and he’s a firefighter. I liked the idea of carrying my child, and while it wasn’t easy, I was determined to make pregnancy work with my job. We pulled it off.” She looks Tim directly in the eye. “The point I want to make for you is there is no right way to have a family, and society can be ignored. The right way for you is the best way for you.”

Yeah. Tim really likes her.

*

He leaves the clinic with pamphlets fisted in one hand, and planning on donating a few thousand dollars to it when he gets home tonight. He feels like his step is lighter, and he can't stop smiling.

The world doesn't feel so much like it's ending right now.

Not to say that's what Tim felt it was before, but . . . yeah, it felt like it was ending, and Tim is just glad that maybe things can work out right.

Dick's a good man.

No matter, he'll support Tim in this decision, and really, if Dick doesn't want to be a dad, how many people would _ really _suspect?

(He ignores the fact that he needs to pray then that the baby looks exactly like him.)

Tim taps his foot all the way back home, only stopping when his phone buzzes with Dick's response, a simple thumbs up and _ 6:30? _

Tim types back _ yes _, and shoves the phone back in his pocket, his feet tapping even more now, making the woman watching give him a dirty look as he gives her a sickly smile in apology. He can't help it, the anxiety curdling in his gut trying to make itself known even as he forces it out of his mind.

Dr. Baker said that the baby looked okay, as much as a five-week-old collection of cells can look okay.

He's only a few blocks from his stop when his phone buzzes again. It's Jason, and Tim's heart sinks, fearful that somehow Jason _ knows _. It's ridiculous, because there's no possible way for Jason to know about his pregnancy when Tim hasn't known about it for a full forty-eight hours, but he must somehow. It's the only possible explanation for this fear thumping in his gut.

He can't ignore that this baby was conceived because he was angry with Jason. He can't ignore the fact that if he hadn't wanted something to fill the void that Jason had left in his heart for one heat, he never would have called Dick.

But he kissed Dick on that sidewalk long before he ever kissed Jason.

The message is short and not very sweet.

_ Jason_: Are you willing to help with a case?

It's the first fucking contact they've had in five weeks. A part of Tim simmers with anger over the fact it's because of a fucking case, but then his eyes brighten in understanding because it's such a fucking Jason way to extend the olive branch. Jason wants to say he's sorry, but he has to dance around the subject until he's sure he won't be rejected. Tim wants to match him step for step while at the same time he finds the thought so incredibly exhausting.

He wants to make sure that he and Jason stay on good terms.

He doesn't want to think about telling Jason that he's pregnant with Dick's baby because he somehow managed to last this entire time without thinking about the look in his family's eyes when they realize he's pregnant—especially the look when they realize it's Dick's.

Jason's going to be so betrayed.

(And Kon's going to be hurt even worse.)

It's with that thought that Tim texts him back, _ Tomorrow. Something important to do tonight. _

He hopes Jason will understand that. He knows that if he doesn't . . . Tim can't care.

In his defense, he's pregnant, and he surely can't be the first pregnant omega in Gotham to cry on a bus because of father drama.

He rushes off the bus as soon as he gets to his stop, running towards his apartment and taking deep, gulping breathes as soon as he gets inside.

It's four o'clock. Just two hours to get ready and let his life be forever changed.

He doesn't know if he should be comfortable or if he should dress nicely, if he should make sure that he’s ready for Dick to celebrate or to cry as soon as Dick leaves in anger. Eventually he gives in to instinct and wears sweats and a Batman shirt. He puts all his focus into solving cold cases, hyper aware of the clock ticking towards six o'clock, but trying to ignore it.

It seems to arrive both too soon and not soon enough, Dick's knock at the door making Tim flinch. He sets his computer aside and heads toward the door, his legs shaking uncertainly as he opens it to see Dick leaning against it.

God, he's handsome. He's still wearing his uniform, the shirt pulling at his broad shoulders that Tim wants to put his hands on them and just _ feel_. He's smiling at Tim, his eyes crinkling and kind.

"Hey, baby bird," he says, and a shiver goes through Tim at those words. "How've you been?"

They haven't been alone together since Tim's heat, and Tim forgot how attracted he was to Dick through all his emotional turmoil.

He’s incredibly, distractingly attractive.

Tim nods. "I've been good," he says, holding open the door to let Dick pass through. His heart beats and his hands get sweaty, his eyes blurring up because now’s the moment of truth.

He should do this delicately.

He does not. The words, "I'm pregnant," slip out of his mouth, and Dick trips on nothing before he sits down on the couch.

The couch that Dick had fucked him on five weeks ago. "You have to be the dad."

Dick's brow furrows and Tim opens his mouth because he knows what he's going to ask, what he's going to point out, and Tim forces out his words in a rush. "It can’t be Jason. _ We _ remembered condoms."

It's amazing how white a person's face can turn when they realize a mistake ages too late.

"Pregnant," Dick whispers, and Tim nods.

"I'm keeping the child," Tim forces out, his words running together. "I'm not asking you for anything, I'm not even asking you to be in their life if you don't want to be, but you deserve to know." He blinks, afraid of what comes next. He looks down at his hands. They're shaking.

And then a tanner hand rests on top of them and Tim is pulled into a strong embrace, Dick's embrace. His nose is buried in Dick's chest, and he takes a deep breath. It's shuddering and high, his emotions trying to boil over yet again. "Dick, I'm scared," he whispers.

"Are you unsure?" Dick whispers, and Tim shakes his head. No, he's not. Not about this.

"Then we'll figure it out together."


End file.
